The Fire Queen by Emily R. King

2017

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Author:	Emily R. King
Genre:	Fantasy
File Name:	the-fire-queen-by-emily-r-king.epub
Original Title:	The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 2)
Creator:	Emily R. King
Language:	en
Identifier:	ISBN:9781611097498
Publisher:	Skyscape
Date:	1506355200
File Size:	586462.208

In the second book in The Hundredth Queen Series, Emily R. King once again follows a young warrior queen’s rise to meet her destiny in a richly imagined world of sorcery and forbidden powers.

Though the tyrant rajah she was forced to marry is dead, Kalinda’s troubles are far from over. A warlord has invaded the imperial city, and now she’s in exile. But she isn’t alone. Kalinda has the allegiance of Captain Deven Naik, her guard and beloved, imprisoned for treason and stripped of command. With the empire at war, their best hope is to find Prince Ashwin, the rajah’s son, who has promised Deven’s freedom on one condition: that Kalinda will fight and defeat three formidable opponents.

But as Kalinda’s tournament strengths are once again challenged, so too is her relationship with Deven. While Deven fears her powers, Ashwin reveres them—as well as the courageous woman who wields them. Kalinda comes to regard Ashwin as the only man who can repair a warring world and finds herself torn between her allegiance to Deven and a newly found respect for the young prince.

With both the responsibility to protect her people and the fate of those she loves weighing heavily upon her, Kalinda is forced again to compete. She must test the limits of her fire powers and her hard-won wisdom. But will that be enough to unite the empire without sacrificing all she holds dear?

Table of Content

1. Unnamed
2. ALSO BY EMILY R. KING The Hundredth Queen
3. Unnamed
4. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2017 Emily R. King All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Skyscape, New York www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781611097498 ISBN-10: 1611097495 Cover design by Jason Blackburn
5. For Marlene Stringer, a true sister warrior
6. CONTENTS AUTHOR’S NOTE 1 KALINDA 2 KALINDA 3 DEVEN 4 KALINDA 5 DEVEN 6 KALINDA 7 DEVEN 8 KALINDA 9 DEVEN 10 KALINDA 11 KALINDA 12 DEVEN 13 KALINDA 14 DEVEN 15 KALINDA 16 DEVEN 17 KALINDA 18 DEVEN 19 KALINDA 20 KALINDA 21 DEVEN 22 KALINDA 23 DEVEN 24 KALINDA 25 DEVEN 26 KALINDA 27 DEVEN 28 KALINDA 29 KALINDA 30 DEVEN 31 KALINDA 32 DEVEN 33 KALINDA ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR
7. AUTHOR’S NOTE The religion of the Tarachand Empire, the Parijana faith, is a fictional variation derived from Sumerian deities. However, the Parijana faith, and the Tarachand and other empires do not directly represent any specific historical time period, creed, or union. Any other religious or governmental similarities are coincidental and do not depict actual people or events.
8. 1 KALINDA Death has a stench, and it is not decaying flesh but the bitter scent of smoke clawing into my pores. A wide, dark plume blots out the afternoon sun, an ashy stain rising to the heavens like a sacrificial trail. A lonely wind, hot as dragon’s breath, pushes black soot toward our caravan. Please, gods. Not again. I click my tongue and press my heels into my camel’s side. The long-legged animal grunts, exhausted from long days of tracking. I dig my heels in deeper, rousing a spurt of strength from the beast, and the camel’s feet crunch over clumps of dead grass as yellow as the harvest moon. Rays from the late-summer sun beat down, parching the land. We crest a short hill, and I yank on the reins, stopping to absorb the destruction. Across the expanse of golden hills, dark smoke obscures the temple roof, and red flames chew apart the crumbling stone walls and surrounding cobble courtyard. Another Brotherhood temple razed to rubble. Deven leans forward, his chest close to my bac
9. 2 KALINDA Something strokes down my nose, pulling me from sleep. A ruby silk canopy stretches over my bed. Curtains billow near the balcony, a hot breeze ushering in the rustle of palm fronds. I am in my chamber in the Turquoise Palace. A finger brushes my nose again. I blink fast, and a face comes into focus. Rajah Tarek’s white teeth flash predatorily in my darkened room. “I’ve missed you, love.” I try to jerk away, but my hands and legs are pinned. “Shh,” he croons. “We’re going to have the wedding night the gods intended for us.” He lies beside me, turns his body into mine, and buries his face in my hair. I wrench at my bindings, struggling to kick free, but my ankles are tied to the bedposts and my arms are stretched over my head. I reach inward for my powers to burn away the straps—and find a well of emptiness. No soul-fire flickers within me. “What did you do?” I ask, my voice hitching on terror. Tarek answers while kissing a trail across my cheek. “I poisoned you as you did me.
10. 3 DEVEN Opal’s wing flyer banks east, out of range from the deafening winds. Thank the gods. Kali got away. The driving rains drench me. Anjali hovers before us, the wind tunnel of hailstones whipping around her. While Rohan runs for the second wing flyer, Brac sends a heatwave at her from behind his boulder. The rainy gales extinguish his fire to smoke. Anjali’s relentless wind pushes aside my brother’s safe cover. He sprints to Mother and me and ducks beside us. Anjali pummels our boulder with gust after gust. I crouch over Mother, our heads bowed, while the hail thrashes against our backs. I have been trained for battle, but my sword is useless here. I have no way of defending my family against these higher powers. Something darkens my side vision—Rohan is airborne in his wing flyer. Anjali harnesses her ripping winds and thrusts them full force at him. He twirls, trapped inside the vortex. “Help him,” I command Brac. He throws several fire blasts in a row at Anjali, each weaker tha
11. 4 KALINDA Hours later, after flying over the seemingly endless eastern rice fields and marshlands, the road twists south, but Opal stays her course southeast over an endless expanse of trees. We fly above the jungle while I watch the treetops rippling beneath us like emerald waves. “I need to rest,” Opal says an hour or so later. “Be ready to descend.” The wind lessens, and we dip. I grip the navigation bar as the greenery comes nearer. The emergent trees, tualang and kapok, rise above the rest of the canopy. We dip past one, still coasting downward. “Um, Opal? Where are we going to land?” “Ever see a myna perch in a tree?” I groan. Oh no. Opal decreases the wind again, and we drop. I turn my face away from the incoming leaves. Branches snap and slap my face and legs. Opal’s wind dwindles off, and foliage surrounds the wing flyer, slowing us to a jolting halt. Our legs dangle behind us, our bodies held up by the passengers’ plank. The wing flyer suspends high above the ground in a gian
12. 5 DEVEN I slog across the marshlands, surveying the inky edge of the Morass in the distance. In the other direction, Yatin and Brac forge for cattails and Natesa and Mother pick long-stemmed reeds. Rohan is resting from our long flight. The wind told him Anjali and Indira are retreating back to Vanhi, so we have the wetlands to ourselves. At last, we are on the ground again, but I cannot see where I am stepping in the dark. I misjudge a mound of grass and slosh through a puddle. Cold, muddy water pours into my boots. Son of a scorpion. I finish surveying the area—with wet boots—and then squish back to Rohan, propped up against the wing flyer. His young face is disconcertingly pale. I heard no complaint or grousing from him today, but it was clear from his shaking arms that his Galer powers were overexerted by too many riders. Natesa and Mother huddle upon a higher mound of land, piling willow reeds. Brac holds his glowing hand to the heap of grass, and it ignites. Firelight brightens t
13. 6 KALINDA Opal waits while I strap my daggers to my thighs. She arrived moments ago, wearing the loose dark-green uniform of a Janardanian palace guard, and summoned me to meet with the sultan. “Any word from Rohan?” I ask. “Not yet, but he and the others are probably a day or so behind.” They could be here by tonight. If I can win over the people’s affection for the prince today, we could leave tomorrow. “Before we go, put this on.” Opal offers me a veil. I recoil like it is a lit match. Married women wear veils. I am not married. “Brother Shaan said you mustn’t be seen in public without the lower half of your face covered.” She attempts to put the veil on me, but I tug it from her hand and crush the flimsy cloth in my fist. “My husband is dead.” I toss the veil, and it flutters to the floor beside my unmade bed. The sheets are crumpled, like my nerves. My nightmares of Tarek were worse last night, heightened by this strange place and the deception that brought me here. The rest of ou
14. 7 DEVEN We soar into Iresh on a tailwind and land in the grounds of the Beryl Palace. I have never wanted to stand on my own two feet more than I do now. The gardens are magnificent and clean, luxuries afforded to the affluent. No sooner do we jump down from the wing flyer than footsteps drum around us. Janardanian guards flock into the courtyard, and one points a machete at my nose. This isn’t the warm welcome I expected. I lift my hands away from my sword. One green-clad guard confiscates it, and another pats me down for hidden weapons. More guards disarm Yatin and Rohan, but when they reach Natesa, she shoves them away. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses. She is promptly wrangled and her haladie taken. Unarmed, she tosses them a look that would send a pig squealing. A narrow-faced older man wearing a Janardanian military uniform strides into the garden. “Who are you?” he asks, coldly scrutinizing us. “Vizier Gyan,” Rohan answers, “I’m an imperial guard here at the palace. These people are
15. 8 KALINDA I spend the afternoon with Opal, though she is not much for company. She naps while I stare blankly at a book. The colorful inks and sketching parchment call out to me, beckoning me to open them. My mind floats with imaginings of all the vivid pictures I could draw, but I go no further. I will not be bribed, even by so lovely a gift. Sitting by the hearth, I ignore the book in my lap and scratch at the rank marks on the backs of my hands. I wish they would go away. But even if they do, the prince still has first rights to me. What if he compels me to compete in the tournament? What if he doesn’t? Will he exercise his first rights to me regardless? Opal sits up and tilts a listening ear to the sky. “Brother Shaan needs me.” She jumps up without further explanation and leaves. My sigh hitches on disappointment. She said Rohan and my party were a day or so behind us, so they must not be here yet. I return my attention to the book, but in the stillness of the chamber my awareness
16. 9 DEVEN The sunlight under the door weakens to pale silver. Footsteps approach, and the door swings open. I squint at the dusky sky; weak as it is, my eyes still sting in the twilight. “You may come out now, Captain,” says Vizier Gyan. I push away from leaning against the wall. Days of traveling without much food weaken my knees, and I weave a step as I exit the hut. Vizier Gyan waits with guards. One of them holds out a whip, the other a sword. I force my face to granite. Vizier Gyan links his hands behind him. “I’ve spoken with the soldiers. They informed me of your prior accusations. Do you admit to conspiring with the bhuta warlord Hastin and betraying Rajah Tarek?” Be humble. I draw in a shallow breath. “Yes, sir.” Vizier Gyan’s staid expression does not change. “I reported my findings to Prince Ashwin. He has no room in his army for traitors. Fortunately for you, he is more lenient than his father. He said if you confessed he would spare your life and deliver a less severe senten
17. 10 KALINDA Ashwin and I step out of the tunnel into sticky air and the persistent night calls of creatures hunkering in the dark. Predatory plant life walls us in, gray-emerald shadows partially blocking the starry sky. “Brother Shaan said there’s a path,” Ashwin remarks. He walks to the thick trees with the torchlight. My fingers hover over my dagger as we search for a trail into the Morass. He notices my hand near my weapon. “Expecting a monster to jump out?” “Can you guarantee me one won’t?” He expels a breathy chuckle. “Here it is.” A narrow path has been scored into the jungle floor, hardly wide enough for a rabbit’s trail. I draw my knife and step into the darkened trees. I pause and listen intently. Branches rustle around me, and animal noises quit or carry away, but the awareness of something watching me prickles at my scalp. I have heard clouded leopards, porcupines, and macaques call this jungle their home, none of which I would like to disturb. Ashwin joins me, our shadows c
18. 11 KALINDA As Natesa finishes brushing kohl around my eyes, her knuckle grazes my nose, triggering an itch. I reach up to scratch it, and she smacks my hand away. “You smudged the corner!” she fumes and then fixes the blemish with impatient brushstrokes. After I slept until the early afternoon, Natesa dragged me out of bed to ready me for the declaration ceremony. I have been avoiding the mirror glass since earlier, when I stole a glimpse of my pallid reflection. Every broken shard of my heart was visible in my bloodshot eyes. Natesa stands back to admire her work. She has been short with me since we were told servants are not allowed to attend the tournament proceedings. She does not like being left out almost as much as she dislikes people ordering her about. “That’ll do,” she proclaims. I brace myself for disappointment and look at my reflection. My makeup is flawless. My hair is brushed to a shine that could outdo a brass gong in the sun, and the plum sari is elegantly majestic. Na
19. 12 DEVEN I lie on my stomach, all strength bled out of me. To blink is to harness the power of a thousand men. To swallow is to employ the gods. The Aquifier pours more healing waters over my back. The warm liquid releases a cascade of fresh smells, from sun-warmed muslin to coconut to white sandalwood. My skin tautens painfully and then tingles with welcome coolness. A member of the brethren has not come to offer a healing blessing on my behalf, as is customary in Tarachand, but I did not expect it. During my time training with the brethren, I learned Janardanians do not worship the Parijana faith as we do but a varied sect that places the land-goddess above her husband, the sky-god. Janardanians believe returning to the ground to feed the land, Ki’s domain, is an honor. They accept that they will die when the land-goddess chooses, and they do not interfere with her will through prayer. The Aquifier trickles more of his fresh-scented water over my back. Foggy dreaminess drifts over me
20. 13 KALINDA A host of servants rearranges the terrace into an outdoor banquet hall with low tables and candlelight. The sultan dines among his wives and courtesans, away from the rest of the attendees. Eunuchs stand guard around them, scrutinizing any patron who comes too close. Prince Ashwin is seated at a table on the dais, and my competitors and I are invited to feast beside him. He saves the floor rug to his right for me, leaving the left one open. Princess Citra plunks down on it before Indah and Tinley have a chance. While servants set dishes of food before us, down the short steps a toddler seated with the sultan’s court screams and throws food at his nursemaid. “Who is that?” I whisper to Ashwin. “The heir to the sultanate. Kuval has a lot of daughters, but that is his first son.” Princess Citra must be fifteen years older than the young prince, yet her baby brother is to inherit the throne. Such dynamics seem unfair given the princess’s loyalty to her homeland. The nursemaid pi
21. 14 DEVEN I part my eyelids at the creak of the cell door. The Aquifier healer comes in carrying a lamp. He is followed by a man with a haunting face. I blink fast, questioning my sight. Rajah Tarek . . . except he looks as he did when he was younger. While growing up in the Turquoise Palace, I would sneak glances at His Majesty from behind my nursemaid’s skirts. His domineering presence and lust for cruelty petrified me. Rajah Tarek controlled my mother’s life and sought to destroy all bhutas, including my brother, who was forced to hide his powers. When I finally stood against Tarek, my years of loyal service as his soldier meant nothing. “Captain Naik, I’ve come to view your progress.” The stranger’s voice is higher and smoother than Tarek’s. Prince Ashwin. I did not get a fair look at him when he came for Kali the other night, but his voice matches my memory. The Aquifier moves behind me and runs his hands down my back, over my still-healing wounds. I hiss at a brief flare of pain,
22. 15 KALINDA Darkness smothers me. The air is thinner and enclosed inside the ruins. I lie on my back and stare into nothing. I cannot see my hand in front of my face. My hand. I push my powers into my fingers. They cast a pale glow, uncovering walls strangled by vines and an uneven rocky floor buckled with tree roots. After getting up, I wrench a dry root free. I cup the top of the wood and shove my powers into it. A small flame sparks. I blow on the flame, and my breath caresses the new embers into a blaze. The torchlight brightens the caved-in entry. The rock pile is too high and packed thick, well within the doorframe. I have to find another way out. Extending the torch in front of me, I hazard my way into the ruins. The floor slopes, leading me into the trenches. Every few steps I pause and listen for sounds above my thumping heart. Water drips nearby, but the rowdy jungle noises are absent. The corridor breaks off into dark doorways. I choose the path in front of me over and over a
23. 16 DEVEN A bright stream of light falls across my face, waking me. Two bhuta guards step into my cell. “Vizier Gyan wants to speak to you,” one says. “Why?” He kicks the leg of my cot. “Just get up.” Meathead. I rise slowly, allowing my body time to adjust. The Aquifier came once more last night and healed the last of my scars; even the arrow wound is gone. But the memory of the pain lingers. Shielding my vision, I step out into the sun. The guards lead me to the quad where the other prisoners are gathered. I spot Yatin, his head higher than the sea of men like the peak of a wave. Worry puckers his brow. Not a comforting sign. Vizier Gyan waits near the pole where I was lashed. The guards leave me there, facing the glares and confused frowns of my fellow soldiers. The vizier holds out a letter. “I received a message from Prince Ashwin. He requested that I read it to you all. It says: ‘I have made a gross error. I was made to believe Captain Deven Naik betrayed his post of command. In t
24. 17 KALINDA The guards dump me in an empty antechamber far away from the throne room. I rest my forehead against the cool tile floor, the frightened cries of the sultan’s court still booming in my ears. I search my mind for something else to think about and find the image of Deven cringing from my glowing hands. Sultan Kuval throws open the door and stomps in, Ashwin on his tail. I stay lying on my side, the toxic snakeroot binding my hands behind me, and stare up at them. “You deceived me,” bellows the sultan. “She’s a Burner.” He spits my god-given powers at me, like I am the dead dragon cobra I flung at his feet. “Kalinda isn’t dangerous,” Ashwin replies. “She’s Kishan’s daughter.” “Kishan was an idealistic fool. He was always lecturing others about unity and the need for Virtue Guards. I will tell you what I told him—I have no place for Burners in my nation! Burners are soulless children of the Void.” I have heard this slander before. Rajah Tarek twisted the truth of bhutas’ godly o
25. 18 DEVEN Gods, it’s hot. The absence of a breeze is stifling. Lieutenant Eko offers me a wet cloth for my face. I dab the rag against my bloody lip where I was hit by a staff. Manas scowls at Eko and me from inside the dining tent with the other soldiers. Friendly as usual. Midday meal comes to a close. I hardly touched my mushy rice, leaving it for Yatin to finish. My whole body is sore from sparring. “You take a beating well,” Eko says, sitting with me. “I’ve had practice.” “General Gautam was your father,” he notes. “I was surprised to hear of his death.” Interesting that I say I’m used to a beating and he mentions my father. Did Eko know the general as I did? The general tortured me for information about the rebels before he died. I remember the general bleeding out on the dungeon floor, but I suffer no powerful ache or loss. Everything I understand about honor and respect, I learned from my mother and other sister warriors. My father does not deserve my sorrow, only relief. He can
26. 19 KALINDA Indah holds my door open. I shove down my agitation at finding her inside my chamber and step past her. After a quick inspection, nothing appears out of order. Pons is stationed near the balcony, in full view of the room and the gardens. Longing sweeps over me. That’s where Deven would stand if he were here. “Kalinda, your guests asked to wait for you to return,” Natesa says, her high voice nervous. “I hope you don’t mind,” Indah adds, settling on my raised lounge. “Your servant offered us tea.” Stick to truths. She can sense liars. “I’m happy to entertain a visit, but I’m in sore need of a bath.” I hold out my dirty skirt as proof. “This will only take a moment.” Indah pats the seat beside her. I join her, expecting this will be brief. Natesa hovers near the teapot and pretends not to eavesdrop. “So you’re a Burner,” Indah remarks, an observation without condemnation. “I should have guessed. Your eyes flash when you’re irritated.” She laughs. “Yes, like that. My mother’s ey
27. 20 KALINDA I meet my contenders and their parties at the base of the waterfall. Citra and Tinley sling glares my way but stay distant. Off to the side, Pons speaks to Indah. Their closeness would draw attention if he were not her guard. What secret is he relaying to her now? We surround a lagoon that feeds into a stream. The picturesque cascade does nothing to ward off my nerves. I fiddle with the pleats of my sparring sari, the skirt tucked between my covered legs. My competitors and I are all dressed in warrior apparel and strapped with weaponry. Natesa insisted that I bring both of my daggers and a khanda. I did not argue the added weight of the sword; I must be ready for whatever trial the sultan has prepared for us. Sultan Kuval stands near the lagoon, Ashwin beside him. He and our guards, Opal and Rohan, are my support. Brother Shaan is still supervising the care of the refugees. Ashwin looks dashing in an all-black tunic and trousers with silver embroidery and a dark turban. I h
28. 21 DEVEN Cries sound outside the tent. Yatin does not stir from his nap. He is like a hibernating bear; he can sleep through anything. I bat away more annoying mosquitoes and step outside. Smoke billows over the city skyline. Not long ago, a thunderstorm came out of nowhere and drenched us. Yatin and I took cover in our tent, but my clothes are still damp from the rain. My suspicions double. These odd natural occurrences must have to do with the trial tournament. On the hillside rank board, Kali’s name remains, along with her three competitors. Is Kali up against her own kind? Do they know she’s a Burner? Bhuta prison guards jog past me. Apprehension quickens my pace as I follow them to the gate. Most of the guards file out. Only two bhutas stay behind—even the towers are empty. From the symbols on their yellow armbands, they are Tremblers, not Galers. This is the chance I have been waiting for. I have memorized how many guards are on duty on average—twenty. How many prisoners—approxim
29. 22 KALINDA A warm bath does not rid me of the scent of smoke or wipe away the ghostly image of Jaya floating in the deep. Natesa leaves me alone with Opal to go and burn my clothes. Riddled with singe marks and holes from shooting embers, my sparring outfit is a total loss. With hair damp from my bath, I stare at my untouched supper. I should renew my strength, but I cannot muster an appetite. Longing pangs through my chest like a lost echo. Did I really see Jaya? Or did I imagine her? I did not dream up the aftermath of the fire. All those destroyed boats. All those frightened people glaring at me and blaming me for burning down their livelihoods. Rohan slips inside my chamber. “Where’s Natesa?” he asks. “She’ll be right back. Why?” He shrugs and comes to the table. “Probably nothing. Are you going to eat this?” “Help yourself.” He sits beside me and digs into my plate. Natesa comes in with the empty laundry basket and spots Rohan eating my food. “That was for Kalinda.” “I told him he
30. 23 DEVEN In the middle of the night, as I am falling asleep, two large men grab me from my cell and lead me to the guardhouse. Vizier Gyan is seated within at a writing table that faces the door. He jots something down in a book and waves at an empty chair without looking up. I enter and sit across from him. The walls are barren, though hung over the desk is an ornamental imperial khanda with a beryl-jeweled hilt. The writing table is organized to perfection, not an ink quill out of place. In case the vizier is observing me, I steal glances at the stocked armory in the corner, a lock dangling from the closed door. Khandas. Crossbows. Machetes. Enough weapons for a small army. The vizier shuffles his parchments aside, squaring the corners into precise angles. My interest turns to a book before him. Runes I cannot read mark the cover. More experienced brethren of the Parijana faith can understand runes, but I did not study with the Brotherhood long enough to interpret them myself. “Capta
31. 24 KALINDA I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of ragged breathing. A startling awareness barrels down on me. I am not alone. My bedchamber is dark, my doors to the balcony closed. A soupy thickness clots the air. The darkness presses down upon me like an iron curtain. Something brushes past the side of my bed. My heartbeat hammers inside my skull. When Jaya appeared to me underwater, she was light, true, and warm. This is the antithesis—a pressing, cloying chill. I experienced this pervading despair one other time, in Ki’s throne room. I slip my hand under my pillow for my daggers. Whatever is here exhales across my face. Its breath smells of rubble and ruin, loss and sorrow. The scent permeates my senses, squeezing my heart and spinning my mind into places I never wanted to return. I am blindfolded in the Claiming chamber. Rajah Tarek inspects me, a predator circling his prey. An invisible force tugs at my hair. I grasp one of my daggers, but the backs of my hands burn, an
32. 25 DEVEN The grave has to be six feet deep, the guards said. As quickly as we dig, the hole fills with rainwater. Even so, the three other diggers and I somberly shovel mud into a slippery pile while the guards observe our progress from under the eaves of a tent. Why must we bury the dead in the rain? The Trembler guards could excavate a grave with the crook of a finger. But that would be too easy, and they are entertained, watching us labor. Gradually, the hole deepens. I shovel alongside Manas and the other two men until the grave is finished. We lean our shovels against the outer wall, and a guard orders us to drop the bodies. The deceased are wrapped in bedrolls, their stocking feet sticking out, since the guards stole their boots. I imagine Yatin’s big feet hanging out of a bedroll and scrub away the miserable thought. I wish I had the power to heal him, but at least an Aquifier is tending to him. He will be all right. I repeat it to myself, He will be all right. We roll the first
33. 26 KALINDA A hot bath washes away the mud but does not touch my numbness. I peel myself out of the cooling bathwater to dress, my wilted limbs drained of strength. I have lost my throne. All this time I have thrashed and gnashed my teeth, trying to break free, but I am stripped bare of the only part of my life I was certain the gods had a hand in. The gods wanted Tarek to claim me. I fought that truth until I lost Jaya—and then I fought for her death to have meaning. I spilled blood to earn my throne. I held on to it with both hands as I searched for Ashwin. I wielded my rank against my enemies. I wore my nobility like a shield. I stood upon my throne to see into the future, dreaming of a better empire. Having my title taken is like tumbling down endless stairs. I am falling for an eternity, with no means of stopping. You can turn to the Voider. The errant thought sprouts from nowhere. I try to pluck out the terrible idea, but it grows roots. The Voider can answer your heart’s wish. It
34. 27 DEVEN Someone kicks me in the side. “Get up,” says a gruff voice. I turn over on my bedroll, away from the guard’s feet. “Meathead.” “What did you say?” he asks. “Nothing,” I mutter. The guard rounds back to kick me again. I roll out of the way onto my knees and then push off the floor. Manas is awake and gone, as are the other men I bunk with. “Is Yatin all right?” I ask. “Did he ask for me?” “He’s alive. Now move.” The guard prods me out of the tent and into the first rays of dawn. The rain clouds have cleared, and the stuffy morning air sticks to my skin. The whole of camp has been woken. I follow the line of men to the quad. The rank board on the dusky hillside has been altered, but I question my vision in the grainy light. Kali’s name has been added to the board again, and Indah of Lestari’s name is missing. Kali’s still in the tournament. We have a chance. Vizier Gyan waits in the quad, flanked by his men. Since today is the tournament, I anticipated the grounds would be mostl
35. 28 KALINDA I awake shivering. Morning sunlight streams through the windows and balcony. My blanket is pulled up to my chin and my limbs are drawn in close to my heart, yet I am cold. I search inside myself for my soul-fire, but my powers elude me. I throw off the covers and stumble to the mirror glass. I try to push my inner light into my hands. They do not glow. Natesa glides in, refreshed for the new day. She holds out a black training sari for my duel. “Good, you’re awake. You leave for the amphitheater in an hour.” I swivel from the mirror glass, and even after I halt, my head continues to spin. “Sultan Kuval gave me neutralizer tonic yesterday before the trial. He said it would wear off by now, but I still don’t have my powers.” “Slow down,” Natesa says, laying out my clothes. “You took something from the sultan?” “All of the competitors did.” My legs wash of strength. I rest against the vanity for support. The sultan poisoned me. Am I the only competitor he sabotaged? Or did he d
36. 29 KALINDA A cool, soothing sensation wakes me. Ashwin hovers near my bedside and dabs my face with a damp washcloth. Indah stands on my other side and heals my khanda wound with expert concentration. Pons assists her, holding a jug of healing waters. Ashwin slides his hand into mine. Dried blood and dirt stain his jacket. “Where am I?” I rasp. “We brought you to my chamber,” he says. “I suggested we go straight to Indah’s boat, but we wouldn’t have made it through the city. Indah insisted we return here so she could start healing you immediately.” “Kalinda wouldn’t have made it any farther with her bleeding,” Indah replies. “She’s fortunate she’s awake.” I turn my head and see Opal in a chair, washing her scraped knees. Rohan stands guard out on the balcony. His cheek and chin are bruised. “What happened?” I ask. “We had trouble getting you out of the arena,” Ashwin replies. “The spectators rioted. Opal and Rohan reached you first and shielded you from the mob. I carried you out, and
37. 30 DEVEN Vibrations rumble through the ground around me. I try to move, but the pit holds me like a clenched fist. The guards outside shout orders to launch a defense attack. More quakes shake through the land, the whole world trembling. The cell door is blown off, devoured by incredible sapphire flames. A figure manifests in the smoky haze. I cough and blink to clear my vision. Tarek? The man looks like Rajah Tarek, except his hands weave blue fire. The rajah casts more cobalt flames at the guards, and they fly back against the walls. He marches past the open cell door, Prince Ashwin behind him. Neither sees me buried up to my chin in the cell, but someone sneaks in. Natesa kneels beside me and begins to dig me out. “What in the gods’ names is going on?” I demand. Natesa presses a finger to her lips to shush me. “We don’t have long. You have to show me the way to the sick tent.” More bhuta guards are flung back by the rajah’s power. When no more Janardanians charge him, the rajah rais
38. 31 KALINDA My fire streams through the Voider’s blue flames, dispersing them to plumes of smoke. Deven and Ashwin depart, on their way to the boat. I was there moments ago but ran back when I saw how close the demon rajah was to us. Indah is still at the vessel, waiting with the others, including Natesa and a fatigued Yatin. The Voider starts toward me, his hands glowing with aberrant powers. “You are bold, Kalinda.” I lock my trembling knees, rooting myself to the ground. I hoped, prayed, I would be given the opportunity to stop the flood of wrongs I undammed by killing Tarek. Ending his life was the gods’ will—fate. So this must be fate too. “I’ve been waiting for this,” the demon rajah says. “So have I.” The Voider has been plaguing me through my nightmares of Tarek. My burning hands and the eerie eyes I saw were signs of my real tormentor, this demon. Whether my soul is tied to Tarek’s or not for eternity, I am done with him in this life. No more Tarek. No more guilt. No more mercy
39. 32 DEVEN Kali is falling. I run for the edge of the boat and dive into the river headfirst. I rise to the top; the golden surface reflects the remnants of her fire dragon fading in the sky. She hits the water a short distance away. Panic seizes me as I swim to her body floating in the waves and drag her back to the boat. A young Lestarian woman, an Aquifier, coaxes a wave that lifts us up to the deck. I heave Kali out of the river with me. She hangs limply in my arms, her skin icy cold. “I’m Indah,” says the Aquifier. “I can help.” The image of Kali tumbling through the sky shocks me into compliance. Indah rests her hand on Kali’s forehead and murmurs. “Blood is water, and water is mine.” Kali coughs up fluid but does not rouse. Blue flames burst at our stern. The demon rajah nears the riverbank. Indah’s guard yells to the pole pushers with their bamboo rods on both sides of the wide, flat boat to draw us from shore. But man power will not move us out of the line of fire quickly. “Pons
40. 33 KALINDA I wake to steady rocking and dull, ceaseless pain, the most vulnerable parts of me turned inside out, exposed and bare. Lanterns swing gently above, casting pale light on my memory. Last I recall I was falling . . . Warmth hugs one side of my body. Deven sleeps beside me, sharing my pillow. I snuggle into his dormant strength, and his eyes flash open. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask, my voice hoarse from disuse. “Three days.” Quiet relaxes between us, raindrops drumming against the wheelhouse roof. Deven props his head under his hand and observes me closely. A full beard blankets his jaw. “How do you feel?” “Like a washcloth wrung and hung to dry.” I tip my forehead against his, inhaling his sandalwood scent. Home. “Are you all right?” Emotions stream across his face: relief, joy, and yearning that stirs an ache inside me. “I missed you.” His low voice eases through me like a warm drink. He cups my chin, and his tender lips seek mine. My nerve endings spark with happine
41. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many thanks to the following: Marlene Stringer, thank you for your patience with my numerous e-mails and your heartfelt enthusiasm for this book. I took a screenshot of the lovely tweet you posted right after you finished reading this manuscript and will keep it forever. Thank you for continuing to be amazed. Thank you to the best editor I could have asked for, Jason Kirk, for jumping on board with this next installment of my characters and world. Your guidance and unfailing support are a dream come true. I’m thankful for Clarence Hayes, who helps me dig out the heart of my story and polish it to a shine. Also, thank you to everyone else at Skyscape and Amazon Publishing, especially Brittany and Kim. I am grateful to work with your amazing team. Kate Coursey (rhymes with “horsey”), thank you for loving something I thought was unlovable and handling my stress texts with admirable grace. Kathryn Purdie, thank you for your love, understanding, and much-needed line edits. T
42. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2015 Erin Summerill Emily R. King is a writer of fantasy and the author of The Hundredth Queen. Born in Canada and raised in the United States, she has perfected the use of eh and y’all and uses both interchangeably. Shark advocate, consumer of gummy bears, and islander at heart, Emily’s greatest interests are her four children. She’s a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and an active participant in her local writers’ community. She lives in Northern Utah with her family and their cantankerous cat. Visit her at www.emilyrking.com.